Conspirators of Gor

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Hold. Do not move. Be quiet,” said Desmond of Harfax. “I do not think she sees us.”

Four days later we were much closer to the Crag of Kleinias. The men had speculated we might reach it by noon, tomorrow.

“From here,” said Trachinos, shading his eyes, “she looks like a nice one. I like them camisked.”

I saw her in the distance, stumbling, trying to run.

She frequently turned, and looked behind her.

“I think she is weak,” said Master Desmond. “I think she is tired, and hungry. She may not have eaten in two or three days. She has probably been trying to hide.”

“She should be apprehended, and punished, terribly,” said Trachinos.

“Perhaps for a time she was not missed,” said Astrinax.

“It seems she now fears herself pursued,” said Desmond.

“I think she has been flushed,” said Lykos.

“I think so,” said Astrinax.

“If sleen are on her,” said Lykos, “she is caught.”

“I see no sleen,” said Trachinos.

“Others,” said the Lady Bina, observing the approaching figure, small in the distance, stumbling, seemingly forcing itself to move, “can trail nearly as well as a sleen.”

“She is coming this way,” said Lykos.

“She will run into our arms,” said Trachinos.

“That,” said Master Desmond to me, pointing, “is a runaway slave.”

“Yes, Master,” I said, frightened.

I thought there was little doubt about that. She was closer now. She was alone, distraught, apprehensive.

“She is a fool,” he said.

“Perhaps she is frightened,” I said.

“There is no escape for the female slave,” said Desmond of Harfax. “I trust you know that, pretty Allison.”

“Yes, Master,” I said. “That is known to me.”

“What a fool she is,” said Desmond of Harfax, regarding the pathetic, approaching figure.

“Perhaps she was frightened, terribly frightened,” I said.

“She has good legs,” said Trachinos. “Perhaps she will not be killed.”

The slave running toward us had her head muchly down, and turned, frequently, to look behind her. Suddenly, she lifted her head, and saw us, and stopped, and cried out, piteously, half fell, and then turned, and fled to the side.

“Bring her in,” said Astrinax, and Trachinos and Akesinos darted from our side in pursuit of the fair quarry.

In a matter of moments they returned with the slave, one on each side, holding an arm. She struggled weakly, futilely. Her hair was about her face. Then they flung her to her knees before Astrinax.

She looked up.

“You are caught, girl,” said Astrinax.

There was a dark collar on her neck, of a sort with which I was not familiar.

“I know this slave!” I exclaimed.

She shook her head negatively.

“Who is she?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

“I am Mina, Mina!” she cried.

“Who is she?” Desmond of Harfax asked again.

“Mina,” I said.

The slave sobbed, and drew in a deep breath.

“How do you know her?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

“We were sold together, in the same auction, in the Metellan district in Ar,” I said. “Too, I met her in Ar, near the fountain of Aiakos. She is a state slave.”

“State slaves are not camisked,” said Astrinax.

“What is she doing here?” asked Desmond.

“Speak,” said Trachinos.

“I was a state slave, in Ar,” she said. “Each month there is an auction of selected state slaves in Ar. I was purchased, with three others, by Pausanias of Ar, and brought in caravan to the Voltai.”

“For what purpose?” asked Astrinax.

“To serve, to serve!” she said.

“Why are you camisked?” asked Astrinax.

“It is how we are kept,” she said

The common slave garment is a brief tunic, of which there are several sorts. Some masters camisk their slaves. Others give them less, and others nothing.

“You are a fugitive slave,” said Astrinax.

She put down her head.

“Who is your master?” asked Astrinax.

She kept her head down.

“Read her collar,” said Astrinax.

“I cannot read,” said Trachinos.

Master Desmond crouched by the slave, and examined the collar. “It is not Gorean,” he said.

“Look up, girl,” said the Lady Bina, and she bent forward, and looked at the collar. “It is in Kur,” she said, “but I cannot read Kur.”

“You see,” said Master Desmond to me, “we are near our goal.”

“Your goal,” I said, “not mine.”

“What is the name of your master?” asked Astrinax.

“Lucius,” she whispered.

“Lucius of Venna, of Ar, what?” asked Astrinax.

“Lucius, of the Cave of Agamemnon, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One,” she said.

“I do not understand,” said Astrinax.

“She cannot say the name,” said the Lady Bina. “She is a lesser form of life. Her speech cannot make the sounds. Accordingly a name is provided which it is possible for her to speak.”

“Rescue me!” begged the slave. “They are monsters, beasts, not human. They can see in the dark! They can kill with their teeth! The strength of one is that of a hundred men! They think less of us than we of tarsk! They kill without compunction, and feast on their kills! Save me! Keep me! Sell me! But do not send me back.”

“It is a lair of beasts,” said Astrinax.

“No,” said Desmond. “I am sure there is more to it. No simple lair or den is involved.”

“My men,” said Trachinos, “were not eaten.”

“And there are doubtless men involved, as well,” said Lykos. “Else why would kajirae be brought to the Voltai. Surely to content, please, and serve men.”

“Pausanias, and his crew, and Kleomenes, with his men, are surely human,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“Yes,” said Lykos.

“And there are doubtless others,” said Desmond.

“I would suppose so,” said Lykos.

“And supplies, fit for Builders, were brought in the wagons of Pausanias,” said Desmond.

“I did not know that,” said Lykos.

“The slave is frightened, beside herself,” said Desmond. “The beasts doubtless have excellent night vision, but so, too, has the sleen. They would not be wreaking havoc amongst human allies. That would subvert the purpose of such an alliance. They are powerful, and dangerous, but their strength, though considerable, would not begin to approximate that of a hundred men, though perhaps that of five or ten. Being newly amongst such creatures she may have become confused, bewildered, disconcerted, mad with fear.”

“I gather they are dangerous enough,” said Lykos.

“Surely,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“Do not send me back!” begged the slave.

“I fear something mighty is afoot,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“Perhaps in this wilderness of danger and loneliness,” said Lykos, “one might incur some favor, and generate some good will, were property to be returned.”

“No!” wept the slave.

“I think so,” said Desmond.

“Please, no!” she wept.

“What do you know of decks of cards?” asked Desmond.

“What?” said the slave.

“Apparently little,” he said.

“Keep me, handsome Master,” she said. “I will be a slave of slaves to you! I will please you in a thousand ways!”

“As a slave?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

“Yes, Master, beggingly so!” she cried.

I decided that slave fires had not yet been lit in the sweet belly of the slave, or she would indeed serve zealously, and beggingly, but for the assuagement of her own needs, as well as those of the master.

I also decided I would hate the former Lady Persinna of Ar.

“What of me?” said Trachinos.

“Yes, yes!” she said.

“You have good legs,” said Trachinos.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

A Gorean slave tunic leaves little to conjecture about concerning the quality of a slave’s legs, and the camisk even less.

“I would hope to please Master,” she said to Trachinos.

She smiled at Trachinos, as though from a slave shelf on which she might be chained, on a fellow she hoped would bid on her. I saw that she had proceeded far in learning her collar since that hot afternoon we had been dragged from the cell in the Metellan district and marketed off the low, circular stone block. Had she smiled so at Desmond of Harfax I would have been tempted to leap to her and yank her about, by the hair. To be sure, I did not doubt but what, in a little time, it would have been I who would have been crying for mercy. Surely I would not have done well as a female fighting slave, those large, misshapen female creatures, some bred, who strike and mangle one another for the entertainment of bettors, and free women.

“Are you hungry, thirsty?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

“She is a runaway slave,” said Trachinos. “Let her be lashed.”

“Her master may attend to such things, as he wishes,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“I am very hungry, very thirsty, Master,” said Mina, the slave, the former Lady Persinna of Ar.

“Tie her ankles together,” said Desmond to Trachinos.

In a bit this was done.

I gather he tied them well, for the awe with which she regarded him. Had she never been bound by such a man, as the slave she was?

“Allison, Jane, Eve,” said Desmond. “Bring her food, and water, and a blanket.”

The binding of a female slave’s ankles is normally quite sufficient in the way of slave security, if the slave is under surveillance. She cannot rise and run, and it would take time to undo the tie, within which time her efforts would be clear to any about. And should the slave so abuse the privilege of having her hands free, she may be bound instead in total slave helplessness. She may then on her belly feed from a pan as best she can, be fed by hand, or, more likely, not be fed.

I recalled how she had viewed Trachinos with awe. Her ankles had been well fastened. I was not sure she could even manage to undo the knots herself.

“It is late,” said Desmond. “Let us camp here tonight.”

“This has to do with the slave,” said Trachinos. “You are feeding and watering her, and then you wish to allow her to sleep.”

“Yes,” said Desmond.

“You seem unduly solicitous for the welfare of a slave,” he said.

“I want her in good condition, in the morning,” said Desmond.

“To be returned to her master?”

“Of course,” said Desmond.

After the abandoning of the wagons, several days ago, after the tharlarion had been driven away, we could no longer be shackled to a central bar. Accordingly the masters had made use of small trees as slave posts, about which we would be ankle-shackled. If no such “post” were available, we were shackled to one another, Jane’s left ankle to my right ankle, and my left ankle to Eve’s right ankle. With the addition of Mina to the “chain,” things were the same, except that Eve’s left ankle, formerly free, was now was fastened to Mina’s right ankle. In this fashion we were all shackled together. I do not think that any of us, saving Mina, were interested in trying to escape, for by now we were well aware we were slaves. On the other hand, we were still shackled. This is not that unusual, even within fortresses, and walled cities. Whereas security and convenience are obviously involved in these matters, I suspect that masters enjoy chaining their slaves. Is there not an uncompromising, ruthless claimancy in such an act, signifying, with heat and pleasure, his absolute possession of the slave? Certainly it well reminds slaves of their bondage. Interestingly, whereas it is seems clear that masters, or many masters, enjoy chaining their slaves, what may be less clear, or more surprising, is that many slaves, indeed most, welcome their chaining; they are grateful for it; what an honor it does them; what a compliment it pays them; they have been found worthy of being chained; they love belonging to their master, and, accordingly, rejoice at, and revel in, their chaining, which is proclamatory of his ownership of them. There is the joy of the mastery, but, too, there is the complementary joy of the submission. They want to submit to a man. They are not happy, fulfilled, and whole until they do so. Hopefully he will keep them, and not sell them. On the chain, they know they are kept. Chaining, too, as is well known, as bonds on the whole, probably because of its relationship to male domination and female responsiveness to male domination, enflames the female, sexually. The most sexual of all females is obviously the female slave. At the feet of a man she learns new worlds of desire and responsiveness. Does this practice, chaining, not say for the master, “You are mine,” and does it not say for the willing, helpless slave, “Yes, yes, Master, I am yours!”

In the morning things proceeded much as usual, except for the addition to our party, Mina. Jane, Eve, and I were unshackled, and set about our morning duties. Mina must assist us, but her ankles were shackled together, with something like a foot of chain. The men were taking no chance that she would run.

When the breakfast was done, the fire extinguished, and the packs readied, Astrinax directed Trachinos to bring Mina, the former Lady Persinna of Ar, this known only to me and the slave, to him.

Trachinos knelt her, shackled, before Astrinax.

She looked up at Astrinax, whom she took, naturally, to be the leader of our party.

She was certainly well-formed, and the camisk, even in its looseness, concealed little. She was blond-haired, and blue-eyed, and collared. I supposed she was very beautiful. I recalled that she had sold for considerably more than I had in the Metellan district. I did not know if that would still be the case. Bondage, commonly, as is well known, softens a woman, and increases her desirability. An owned woman is quite different from one who is free. Indeed, simply that she is a slave increases her desirability. In bondage, she comes closest to the natural woman, and farthest from an engineered product of cultural conditioning, whichever product, whichever manufactured article, it might be, given the particular culture; she becomes a more natural woman, richer, deeper, more profound, ever more real, ever more biological, and ever less an artifact. In bondage, she finds herself. In bondage, she becomes the most radically female of women. It is no wonder that free women, with all their conventions, prescriptions, restraints, and frustrations, hate her so.

Mina looked up at Astrinax.

“What are you going to do with me?” she wept.

“Return you to your master, of course,” said Astrinax.

“No, no!” she begged.

She tried to spring up, but stumbled, shackled, and was then again on her knees before Astrinax.

“It is the law,” said Astrinax.

“Please, no!” she wept.

“We could keep her and sell her,” said Trachinos.

“Yes, yes!” she begged.

“No,” said Astrinax. “She is to be returned to her master. That is the law.”

The slave put down her head, shuddering, weeping.

“Have pity on her!” I said to Desmond of Harfax. “They will listen to you! Tell them! You cannot return her to beasts!”

“It is in accord with my plans,” he said.

“You are heartless,” I said.

“Much is at stake,” he said.

“Hide her!” I said.

“That is not practical,” he said.

“Please!” I said.

“She is a female slave,” he said. “She ran away. She is to be returned to her master.”

“I heard Master Lykos,” I said. “You hope to be welcomed, to incur favor, to generate good will, or such, by returning the slave!”

“Certainly,” he said. “Would you have us incur disfavor and generate ill will, thus jeopardizing our enterprise?”

“What enterprise?” I said.

I then found myself beneath the frown of a free person.

“Forgive me, Master!” I said.

“Would you have us release her here, into the mountains, to die?” he asked.

“Bind and leash the captive,” said Astrinax. “Then unshackle her.”

Desmond of Harfax approached Mina with a short thong. I saw Trachinos drop a widened leash collar about the head of the slave, and then adjust it to her neck. He grinned. Clearly it pleased the brute to do this. Many masters enjoy having slaves on their leashes. It certainly makes clear the relationship involved, both for he who holds the leash and she who is leashed. I wondered if she had ever been promenaded in Ar. Many masters, I supposed, would have been pleased to walk such a slave. She looked ahead, not meeting his eyes, frightened. He jerked the strap twice, against the leash ring. She whimpered. It was a tiny sound. It could scarcely be heard. Almost at the same time Desmond of Harfax drew her hands behind her, and thonged them together, snugly. This made me angry. I did not like to see him tie another woman’s hands behind her. Certainly a woman understands what it means to be tied by a man. It was I who wanted his thongs!

The slave now stood, leashed and bound, her head down.

Lykos crouched down, and removed her shackles.

I recalled that the former Lady Persinna of Ar had sold for more than I, considerably more.

“You are heartless,” I said to Desmond of Harfax. “You have tied her too tightly!”

I was suddenly cuffed, struck to the dirt. I looked up at him, frightened. The left side of my face stung, terribly.

“We leave,” said Astrinax.

“Proceed,” said Desmond of Harfax. “We shall join you shortly.”

I struggled to my knees, and watched our party proceed down the trail. Once Jane and Eve looked back at me, frightened. They were last in the march. Trachinos, who held the leash of the former Lady Persinna of Ar, was forward. This was, I supposed, that the leashed slave would be prominently displayed, to make it clear that she was not being concealed, or such. One might suppose, then, that our party would be amenable to returning her, now captured and helpless, to her rightful owner or owners. Astrinax and the Lady Bina were also forward.

I looked up, at Master Desmond.

“Why did you speak as you did?” he asked.

“I hate you,” I said.

“I find it difficult to understand you,” he said. “Perhaps it is because you are a barbarian.”

“Do you find it difficult to understand Jane and Eve?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“They are barbarians,” I said.

“True,” he said.

“Why, then,” I asked, “am I so difficult to understand?”

“I do not know,” he said.

“I thought it was easy for a man to understand a woman who was in his collar,” I said.

“You are not in my collar,” he said.

I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. “Am I not?” I said.

“You are jealous of Mina?” he said.

“Perhaps if I were in a camisk,” I said, “you would find me more attractive.”

“Your tunic,” he observed, “conceals little.”

“Our party advances,” I said.

“Do not concern yourself,” he said.

“I loathe you, I hate you,” I said.

He looked down at me, thoughtfully.

“What are you going to do with me?” I asked.

“Perhaps bind you, hand and foot,” he said, “and leave you here, on the trail, for larls or sleen.”

“You cannot do that,” I said. “I am not yours! I belong to the Lady Bina!”

“I could do that,” he said. “But I would not do it.”

“Why?” I said.

“Because,” said he, “you are not mine. You belong to the Lady Bina. Too, you are in my care.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“I could, though,” he said, “give you a good lashing with my belt. I think you would profit from such a lashing.”

“I trust that you will not do so,” I said, uneasily.

“You said that you and Mina were sold together,” he said.

“Yes, Master, many months ago, in the Metellan district.”

“It is strange that she would have been sold in the Metellan district,” he said.

“How so?” I asked.

“She is quite beautiful,” he said.

“But not so strange that I would have been sold there?” I asked.

“She brought a higher price,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Much higher?” he asked.

“Yes!” I said.

“I begin to see your concern,” he said.

“Master is perceptive,” I said. “Please do not strike a kneeling slave!” I said.

He lowered his hand, and I breathed more easily. I could still feel his former blow.

“You regard yourself as far inferior to her?” he asked.

“I merely, as a pitying slave,” I said, “dared to call attention to your cruelty, your heartlessness, the way you bound her wrists behind her.”

“It is merely the way one binds a slave,” he said. “It is not done with excessive cruelty. It is merely that a slave is to be made utterly helpless, that she be bound with perfection, and that she will know herself utterly helpless, and bound with perfection.”

“I see,” I said.

“She has more body than you,” he said, “but I do not see that you are all that inferior to her.”

“Oh?” I said, angrily.

“You are generally worthless,” he said. “You are stupid, vain, petty, selfish, deceitful, and, if the opportunity should present itself, I fear dishonest. I have serious reservations concerning your character.”

“I am not stupid,” I said.

“Still,” he said, “your face and figure, and something indefinable about you, are not without interest.”

“I rejoice,” I said.

“Remove your tunic,” he said. “I want to see you in nothing but your collar.”

“Surely Master has seen me often enough in the slave wagon,” I said.

“In nothing but your collar,” he said.

“You would have me strip myself here, in the open?” I asked.

“Now,” he said.

I slipped from my tunic, a slave.

I straightened my body. “Is Master pleased?” I asked, acidly. “No!” I cried. “Please, no!”

Then I was kneeling down, head down, to the dirt, muchly cuffed, twice kicked. “It is my hope that Master is pleased,” I wept.

“You had best hope that I am pleased,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I wept. “Yes, Master!”

“We shall see,” he said.

“Master?” I said.

“Perform,” he said.

“Please, no, Master!” I said.

“Roll about,” he said. “Writhe! Pose. Assume attitudes. Display your limbs! Various positions. Show what you have, slave! Perhaps someone will buy you. Perhaps you will not be beaten. Perhaps you will not be thrown to sleen!”

The dust, scattered and stirred, was wet with sweat and tears.

“More!” he said. “More frenziedly, more pathetically, more wildly, more boldly, more violently, more desperately!”

“Yes, Master,” I wept.

“And so,” he said, “the slave performs before the loathed, hated master, frantically hoping to be found pleasing.”

“I do not hate you Master!” I cried out, an outburst breaking from my tortured body.

“Enough,” he said, angrily.

I crawled to him on my belly, weeping. I pressed my lips to his boots and kissed them, again and again.

“I do not hate you, Master,” I said. “I love you!”

“Your hair is growing out,” he said.

“I love you,” I said. “I love you!”

“Of what worth is the love of a worthless slave?” he asked.

“Of no worth, Master,” I said.

I rose to all fours. I dared not meet his eyes.

“Garmenture,” said he. “And fetch your pack. We must join the others.”

Shortly thereafter I stood on the trail. I was now tunicked. I stood very still. Our party must be a pasang, or so, ahead. He adjusted the pack. That is sometimes done.

“I do love you, Master,” I whispered to him. “I think I have loved you since the Sul Market, in Ar, when I was half-stripped, with my wrists bound behind me, and you, a stranger, ordered me to my knees before you.”

“I see,” he said.

“I looked up, and feared you were my master, and, I fear, I desired it so.”

“I see,” he said.

“And perhaps,” I said, “as you gazed upon me, a kneeling slave, with your master’s appraisal, you wondered how I might appear, naked, chained at a slave ring.”

“That sort of thing is common with any fellow,” he said, “looking on any woman, slave or free.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“And,” said he, “as you were at the time, that conjecture required little imagination.”

“Did my performance please you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“You made me perform well,” I said.

“That was my intention,” he said.

“You humiliated me,” I said.

“You enjoyed it,” he said.

“Oh?” I said.

“What woman does not enjoy displaying herself, naked, as the slave and slut she is?” he asked.

“It is my hope,” I said, “that the Lady Bina will give me to you, or sell me to you.”

“Do not concern yourself with such things,” he said.

“Such thoughts occur to a slave,” I said.

“Matters of moment abound,” he said.

“Please care for me,” I begged.

“Though you be but a slave,” he laughed.

“Though I be but a slave!” I said.

“We must hasten, to rejoin the group,” he said.

“Master!” I begged.

“Slave girls are unimportant,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I wept.

“One does not care for the female slave,” he said. “She is no more than a beast. For her it is the whip, bonds, the collar, service, ownership, work, and the inordinate pleasures which she must frequently and unquestioningly provide.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Why else do you think women are collared?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Surely you learned such things in the slave house,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“What was your name when free?” he asked.

“Allison Ashton-Baker,” I said.

“Well,” said he, “does the former Allison Ashton-Baker understand these things?”

“Yes,” I said, “Master.”

“Heel,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said, and hurried to follow him, a bit behind, on the left.

We made our way along the trail.

We were well behind the party, but I had little doubt that we, a free man and one slave, might shortly overtake it, possibly within the passage of an Ahn. The Lady Bina was robed, though less decorously than would have been thought proper in Ar, and Mina, our captive, was leashed and bound. Such things commonly reduce the speed of a march. Moreover, the party would presumably proceed slowly in this unfamiliar terrain, and certainly with the Crag of Kleinias in the offing, rearing up before them, into the sky.

“I am lovely, am I not?” I asked Master Desmond.

“Yes,” he said, “and vain, and such.”

“Might I not now bring a good price?” I asked.

“Forget about Mina,” he said.

“Master!” I begged

He did not look back.

“I would suppose so,” he said.

“Better than Mina?” I said.

“Do not be absurd,” he said.

“Might Master bid on me?” I asked.

“Many men might,” he said, “who did not know your true nature.”

“My true nature?” I said.

“Your pettiness, and such,” he said.

“My belly wants you,” I said.

“Do slave fires burn there?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “I do not think so.”

“It is easy enough to ignite them,” he said.

“Ignite them!” I said.

“No,” he said.

“You did such things to me in Ar, by Six Bridges,” I said, “with your kiss, your touch.”

“It is pleasant to do such things to a slave,” he said, “to render her helplessly responsive, whether she wishes it or not.”

“I wish it, Master,” I said.

“Even a petty slave,” he said, “of little worth, may bring a good price if she kicks, and squirms, and gasps and moans, and writhes well.”

“Allison begs Master for his touch!” I said.

“You are in my care,” he said.

“No one would know!” I said.

“I would know,” he said, “and the slave would know.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, angrily, “honor! Honor!”

He did not respond, but I saw a fist clench.

“But Master is tempted, is he not?” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “Master is tempted.”

I smiled to myself, and was well satisfied with this answer.

We continued on, and then he said, “Do you think you would be any good in the furs?”

“I would do my best to be pleasing to my Master,” I said.

“So, too,” said he, “would any slave.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

After a time, I called out, “I think Master would bid on me!”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Hold!” he said, stopping. “Ahead!”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

Ahead, on the trail, was our party, Astrinax; the Lady Bina; Lykos; Trachinos, his leash on Mina, the former Lady Persinna of Ar; Akesinos, the confederate of Trachinos; and two slaves, bearing packs, Jane and Eve.

With them, before them, and about them, were several other figures. Several of these figures were human. I recognized Kleomenes amongst them. Several were not human. They were large and shaggy. Some carried long-handled, double-bladed axes. These were Kurii.